Rise of the Zillionaire Star

Chapter 37: Street Ambush

Jaylen was halfway across the dimly lit street when his instincts screamed.

A black SUV rolled up without headlights, its tinted windows like dead eyes. The faint thunk of a door unlocking cut through the night.

“Zee…” Jaylen murmured under his breath.

“Scanning,” Zee’s voice was cold and cynical in his earpiece. “Multiple thermal signatures approaching from the rear and left. Hostile intent detected.”

The sound of rapid footsteps on the wet road confirmed it.

From the dark, three men emerged in hoods pulled low, and hands balled into fists. Their movements weren't coordinated.

They were Roman Vale’s calling cards.

Jaylen stopped in the middle of the street, watching the thugs close in. “Let me guess,” he called out, with a steady voice. “Roman didn’t have the guts to come himself.”

The lead thug smirked. “He doesn’t need to. We just need to make sure you can’t perform, can’t post and can’t breathe without Vale’s permission.”

Two more people came out from the SUV, they were muscle built with broad chest.

They were five against one.

‘Perfect.’ Jaylen muttered. Jaylen rolled his shoulders and took a single step forward. His pulse wasn’t rising, his focus was sharpening. “Are you sure you want to do this in public?”

The thug chuckled. “Public? Look around, pretty boy. No one’s…”

The sound of a phone camera clicking cut him off.

Across the street, a small group of teens in hoodies had stopped by. They were pointing their phones at the scene. They whispered excitedly as fans.

One yelled, “Yo, that’s Jaylen! Leave him alone!”

Jaylen smirked. ‘Fan Guard Protocol, don’t fail me now.’ He muttered.

The first thug lunged, throwing a wild hook aimed at Jaylen’s jaw. Jaylen slipped under it and drove a knee into the man’s gut, folding him in half.

Another came from behind, grabbing Jaylen’s jacket. Jaylen spun, yanking the man forward into his own momentum and sent him crawling.

The third thug pulled a telescoping baton. “The lights are out, celebrity.”

In a blur of motion, Jaylen ducked, caught the thug’s wrist, twisted it, and the baton clattered to the ground as the thug cried in pain. Jaylen snatched it up.

“You brought me a gift,” he said, twirling it once before cracking it against the thug’s ribs.

The two heavies finally charged in, their bulk body structure shook the pavement. Jaylen backed up, but not out of fear, he was drawing them into the brightness of the streetlamp where the teens’ cameras could catch everything.

One heavy swung. Jaylen sidestepped, striking behind the man’s knee which made him drop to one leg. The other heavy grabbed Jaylen by the collar, but before he could land a blow…

“Hey! Let him go!” one of the fans yelled.

A barrage of flashes erupted as more pedestrians stopped by pointing their phones at them to catch

Jaylen locked eyes with the hefty men. “Smile. You are trending.”

With a hard shove, Jaylen broke free, sweeping the heavy man’s legs from under him.

The first thug, the one who had been subdued, charged again. Jaylen dodged, letting the man’s own swing slam him chest-first into the SUV’s hood with a clang.

Someone in the crowd shouted, “Worldstar!” Another yelled, “#ValeViolence!”

The thugs were hesitating now. Their job wasn’t supposed to be on record. But the crowd had grown to ten, maybe fifteen people filming from every angle.

Jaylen lowered the baton and took a deliberate step toward the SUV. “Tell Roman the next time to send someone with a brain. And maybe a spine.”

The lead thug cursed under his breath, gesturing for the others to retreat. The SUV’s doors slammed, and the vehicle peeled off into the night.

The moment they were gone, Jaylen turned to the crowd.

“Thanks for the backup,” he said, raising a hand in salute. “But do me a favor, tag every post with #ValeViolence. Let’s make this viral.”

A cheer went up from his fans.

Phones tilted toward him for selfies, and Jaylen obliged for a few quick shots. Every pose was a message that he was still standing.

The system chimed. “System Notification!

Mini-Face-Slap Complete: Vale’s goons.

+3 Talent

+10,000 Z-Credits

Unlock: Fan Guard Protocol – Nearby supporters will naturally rally to your defense in public incidents.:

Two hours later, the clip was everywhere.

On LoopFeed, it was the number one trending short, “Jaylen handles street attack like a boss - Vale EXPOSED”

TwitterStorm had the hashtag #ValeViolence in the top five worldwide trends.

Fan edits had already spliced the footage with sound effects, fight music, and reaction memes. One showed Roman’s face superimposed on the retreating SUV with the caption ‘When you pick the wrong target’.

Zee’s voice was calm but tinged with satisfaction. “The engagement rate went up by 76% in the last hour. Sentiment analysis, positive spike. Roman’s credibility is bleeding.”

Jaylen leaned back in his studio chair, scrolling through the flood of DMs. Fans offering support. Strangers saying they have never heard his music before but were now streaming it nonstop.

But beneath the rush, he knew this was just one battle. Roman wouldn’t stop. He had escalated it.

“Zee,” Jaylen said quietly, “log this as a warning shot.”

“Logged. Also, cross-referencing thug facial data with known affiliates… one match: Tyson Greaves. Connected to Roman Vale’s security detail.”

Jaylen’s smile was cold. “Perfect. I’ll use that.”

By midnight, the fight footage had been picked up by entertainment blogs. Some were openly mocking Roman for sending muscle men after a recording artist. Others hinted at legal consequences.

The real gem came from a late-night panel show.

One host laughed so hard she had to wipe her eyes. “So Roman Vale’s crew thought they could jump Jaylen on a public street and not get recorded? These guys have the intelligence of a soggy biscuit.”

The audience roared. Jaylen saved the clip after watching it.

At 2:37 a.m., a new notification pinged.

“New Questline Alert

Questline: “Crush the Vale Machine” – Progression Tier 2 Unlocked.

Objective: Systematically dismantle Roman’s influence network.

Rewards: High-tier passive skill, large Fame boost, permanent Arena Advantage.”

Jaylen shut his laptop and looked out of the studio window. The city glittered, unaware it was about to become a battlefield of influence, exposure, and precision strikes.

The thugs had failed. Roman’s next move would be bigger.

Jaylen welcomed it.

The following afternoon, as Jaylen was leaving a meeting, a black envelope was slid under his car’s windshield. When he opened it, there was no name or address.

Inside of it was a single photo of Jaylen shaking hands with a fan after the ambush.

Across the bottom of the envelope in red ink, “Next time, we take the crowd with you.” Jaylen’s jaw tightened.

“Zee,” he said.

“Yes?” Zee replied.

“Lock in Fan Guard Protocol. We’re going to war.”